


Winter Family Gathering

by Aithilin



Series: Seasonal Prompts [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Minor Clarus Amicitia/Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 12:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20675054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: A snapshot of a family gathering during a Lucian holiday.





	Winter Family Gathering

“It needs to be,” Regis found himself impatient for the first time in a very long time, leaning heavily on his cane as he watched the dish sizzle and spit in the pan. He finally swatted Clarus’ arm, and ignored the concern look his Shield offered as he was unceremoniously shoved aside; “just so.”

He pressed his stolen spatula over the little mounds of ground meat— the juices spreading across the oiled pan as he pressed them lightly, the rosemary and garlic he had worked so carefully to contain rising with the heat around them. Regis smiled to himself as Clarus huffed his frustration at his shoulder, a moment of irritation lost as the larger man moved to get the next step prepared— a deeper pan, more oil, a thermometer to test the meat, a handful of skewers that Regis could tell already was too few for his plans. 

“I was doing that.”

“You were squishing them.”

“I was pressing them.”

“Squishing, dear Clarus. You were always too brutish for a delicate task like this.”

“Don’t start,” meat browned, Clarus gathered those that were ready for the next step in the frying. “And this is my recipe.”

“I’m better at it. Don’t leave them too long they’ll—”

“They won’t burn.”

“They just need to crisp.”

“I know, Reggie.”

Noctis slipped through the kitchen behind them— the spacious Amicitia home allowing for more than enough room for him to manoeuvre around to his destination, but his curiosity bringing him closer than needed to examine the work going on. He leaned around his father first, and realized that he was at the wrong side to steal samples. Clarus was less forgiving than Regis, and moved the plate of finished pieces just out of reach; “You two done fighting?”

“Out,” Regis barely turned, keeping the movements of his work smooth and precise. Meatballs going in, pressed and browned, then out again to Clarus to finish frying. “This is a surprise.”

“Aren’t we supposed to taste test everything?”

“Not you two,” Clarus had no qualms about manhandling his Prince out of the way. “Go get your Glaive to check for poison.”

“Always knew you didn’t like Nyx.”

“He’s fit for purpose. Even if that purpose is not obvious,” another shove and Noctis skittered out of reach until he was at his destination. “Now out.”

Arms full of drinks from the fridge, Noctis returned to the living room where the rest of the gathering was happening. The Amicitia home had been commandeered by Noctis for a family gathering of sorts. The festival had already been in full swing outside in the busy streets for days— a week of festivals crowded through narrow thoroughfares and spread across shining parks, the snows cleared from the streets and piled high where artists could shape and sculpts and tease the snow into statues worthy of prizes. The lights and streamers outside, presented to the people by the Council had been carefully planned months in advance, with every sparkling bulb and glittering piece of ribbon chosen for a theme or image of the Citadel core that was just as sculpted and crafted as the snow decorations lining the pedestrian avenues. 

Inside, the lights were still being hung. 

Gladio balanced on a set of chairs, clipping together strands of lights as Iris fed him the line from the portions she had managed to untangle. Prompto had been barred from helping, and instead moved around the room, collecting photos of decorations, of people, of the candid moments he could steal amid the lights and music and echo of the festive gathering. 

“Sorry, Specs,” Noctis set the drinks down with the rest of the platters of snacks and treats and fresh goods either brought in from the guests or made in the kitchen currently under royal occupation; “no taste tests allowed.”

“Damn,” Ignis kept an eye on Gladio’s work from a safe distance. “At least I’m still right about the decorations; Gladio has yet to realize the hallway is open on the other side of that railing.”

“I’m going to tell him.”

“Don’t you dare. I have quite a bit of money riding on this.”

The whole event was late, really. Delayed by a few days as the Citadel hosted its feasts and royal gatherings for the season. As the silver and gold lights, the green trim and the colourful streamers that decorated the royal residence and seat of government no longer drew in the winter weary tourists. In another week the city would return to normal— the sculptures cleared and the snows allowed to turn to mush along the sidewalks. The skeletal trees that lined the narrow avenues would be stripped of the festival lights, and the whole mess of the city would return to normal within a few days. 

The Lucian festival a fading memory as they went about their days. 

Their embers would ignite the warmer Galahdian midwinter fire festivals instead. Condensed into a few city parks and narrow blocks of the districts, Noctis had already made his plans to vanish into the heated, hearty food and lively musical chaos. 

Jared interrupted the decorating and his thoughts by showing Nyx into the room. The Glaive already looking uncomfortable as his winter coat was taken from his hands, as he loosened the jacket of his suit and the tie that he had always compared to a noose. 

“You made it.”

“I made it,” Nyx offered a smile as his greeting, looking unnerved by the height of Amicitia festivities around him. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing yet,” Ignis offered as his own greeting in response. “Help yourself to food. His Majesty is still finishing off the main course, I believe.”

“His— Right. Sure.” Nyx stooped to kiss Noctis as an afterthought, still dazed from the splendour of the lights and decorations, and the ease he was ushered into the family gathering. “Hi, little star.”

“Hi, hero.” Noctis pressed his own drink into Nyx’s hands; “You wore a tie.”

“Might be treason not to during a dinner with the King.”

“Clarus will approve. Dad might laugh.”

“So long as someone approves. Are we telling Gladio that he’s doing things the hard way?”

“Not yet.”


End file.
